


One's Other

by truelyesoteric



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death - Cannon, Scott & Stiles - Best Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:36:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truelyesoteric/pseuds/truelyesoteric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows very well where he's supposed to end up. He just doesn't know how he is going to get there. He can't even figure out how to bring it up, how to tell anyone. For his part, Derek seems more than okay with pretending what is between them doesn't exist.</p><p>This isn't a love story, this is a life story. This is a friendship story. This is a finding your feet and learning to walk story. Told in an ever so slightly different world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One's Other

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble, one that hit 20K. So best laid plans and all. There just kept needing to be scenes.
> 
> I want to thank the very lovely ldyghst for suffering through my lack of commas and interesting sentence structure. Much love and so happy that you were able to do this for me. I am so very grateful to you.
> 
> I also want to thank tsukinofaerii who talked me through the mythology in this. She pushed me ever so slightly into a direction and all the sudden there were layers that I hadn't seen before. Long live Mother Nature's Tramp Stamp.

Stiles didn’t make it a habit of going to see Derek. They weren’t friends. They really couldn’t be. What was between them was more complicated. 

It had to be now though. For a year and a half the pack of Alphas had been wearing them down. Stiles didn’t know how much longer they’d all be standing. There were things that needed to be said.

If he didn’t say it now he didn’t know if there would be anyone left to say it to.

Stiles had been walking a line for a long time. Scott refused to align with the Alphas or Derek or even the hunters. Beacon Hills was being torn apart by all of the factions. The collateral damage had been kept to a minimum, but it was starting to add up. 

Tired was an understatement to how Stiles felt. He was being pulled in a million directions, and he was breaking under the strain of the things that he wasn’t saying. Stiles was Scott’s pack, along with Allison, but they couldn’t be an island of Omeganess any more.

Stiles needed Scott to choose Derek, but he couldn’t say the words. He needed Derek to acknowledge him, but he couldn’t bring it up. His needs were faltering under the weight of everything they had to carry.

He didn’t know how to deal with everything. But the one thing he knew, was that he had to say something. So Stiles went to Derek. It was something that he had never done, it was all that was left. He chose his moment carefully. He knew Derek was home and that no one else was. Erica and Boyd were long gone, and Isaac was off with Deaton. 

The Hale House still stood there, burnt and imposing. It was something out of a nightmare and Derek still chose to live there, along with Isaac. Stiles had been there a few times, none of those times had been pleasant, he didn’t think that this time would be any better.

He just stood in the clearing feeling how it was just him, the burnt out shell of a vibrant family stead, and Derek Hale.

Stiles stepped into the house cautiously, partially not trusting the floorboards, and partially because he didn’t want the ferocious owner of the house to attack him. As he stepped into the house, he didn’t know where Derek was exactly, but he knew that Derek was there and that he could hear him. Stiles had a Derek-sense, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

“I went to the cemetery today," Stiles said into the house. 

The house was still, but it didn’t matter. He was going to say his piece.

"I went to put flowers on my mother's grave,” Stiles said, still speaking to an empty space. “And because I'm an idiot, and because I’m your Other, I went to put flowers on Laura's grave, like I want her to like me. Just in case you one day look at me.”

Stiles could feel him now, he was silent, but Stiles just knew so he kept speaking, trying to push words over the lump that was lodged in his throat.

“Did you know she had a One, still has a One? He's still alive, he never met her, but he saw her picture in the paper after she died. He comes once a month from LA to put flowers on her grave, because she’s his. He’ll never know her, but she is still his, and he puts flowers on her grave."

Stiles voice was breaking at the end. Derek came around the wall, not looking like he wanted to. Stiles more than understood, neither of them wanted to confront this, but it was beyond the inevitable point.

Derek looked him, eyes blazing, and nostrils flaring. He didn't say anything, but the gigantic hint wasn't lost on him.

"So what flowers should I put on your grave," Stiles said, just to drive the point farther home.

Derek didn't say anything.

"I like peonies and Gerber daisies," Stiles said finally. "I'm human, so most likely it will be me first."

Derek didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Stiles nodded and walked out the door.

They both knew it was a lie. That there was a good chance Stiles would have a second grave to place flowers on very soon.

***

Every child knows that when they go through puberty they will wake up one morning with little marks on their appearing on their backs. That the marks will start at the base of their spines and work their way upwards. They aren’t moles or freckles. They are something distinct and bold. The number varies from person to person. The marks number how many potential people are compatible for an individual to be with.

The mark is the Number.

Most people had a number around thirty. Ones are rare. Being a One meant that there was only One other person in the entire world that a person could be happy with. Ones only are the Others of Ones. 

The Number was set at birth. Death or insanity didn't change a thing. Your number was your number. You could try to fuck your way out of it, try to make it work with someone else, but never in the course of human history had that succeeded, nobody had ever been happy with anything but one of their Number. You knew, from the moment that you saw one of your Numbers. Usually the first one caught your attention and never let it go. If you were a One it was tenfold, nothing else would ever be that good. It was supposed to be simple.

But in Stiles case finding his One didn’t solve anything, it made his life more complicated.

**

Stiles tried to ignore the lyrics in his head, but he kept hearing “American Pie” over and over again. 

_This would be the day that I died._

He and Scott had escaped to an abandoned cabin in the woods. The cabin was decrepit and empty, much like Derek’s house. It was another building forgotten and worn down by time without any kind of human upkeep.

Stiles leaned against the door. There were howls outside, echoing through the forest.

“It’s me,” Scott said. He was bruised, blood dripping from cuts just beginning to heal, but still looking nasty. They had been ambushed. By sheer force of stupidity and Derek Hale being the diversion they had gotten away. The thing was that the Alpha pack had Derek. Scott had pulled Stiles away from the melee and it had torn him apart to leave Derek there. He wasn’t going to leave Derek to die.

The Alphas wanted Scott now, they wanted him to align with them. Stiles knew that their ideal was Scott taking Derek’s Alpha. That knowledge made him ill.

Stiles’s arm hung uselessly at his side. He leaned against the door because he could barely stand, but he was going to be between Scott and any means of escape.

Scott looked up at him, eyes glowing.

“They want me,” Scott growled. “Just me. If I’m gone, then everything will stop.”

Stiles shook his head, because Scott was so goddamned naive at times. “No.”

It was a weak protest. They both knew that Scott could overpower him. It was respect and brotherly love that kept Scott from bolting, but that wasn’t going to last forever. Stiles had one thing left, only one shot in hell of an outcome he could live with.

“You can’t go,” Stiles said tiredly. “You’re my family, and you can’t go”

“There are no options left,” Scott said. “They have everybody, they just want me and everyone will be fine, they’ll leave. We have to pick sides, this is the best choice.”

“You’re choosing the wrong side,” Stiles said tiredly.

“I know,” Scott said sadly. “But they said that you and Allison could come with me, they said that they would leave for my bond. You’ve seen them, they’ll treat us okay when we are pack.”

Stiles closed his eyes.

“I can’t, Scott,” Stiles said quietly. “You can’t.”

“Stiles, talk to me.” Scott was almost begging. “If I can stop this…this is the easier way. I don’t know who is going to walk out of this if I don’t.”

Stiles opened his eyes and tried to open his mouth.

Long time of avoidance made the words heavy on his tongue.

“You’re a brother to me,” Stiles said, knowing that they were bonded beyond that simple word. “But he’s my Other. If you go, they will have you kill Derek.”

Scott was silent for an amount of time that they didn’t have.

“He’s your what?” Scott said. Suddenly the howling outside was less important.

“You heard me,” Stiles said tiredly.

Scott’s jaw dropped. “How long…”

“Since the beginning, you always just know,” Stiles said, breathing heavily. “You can ask me more later. Right now Scott, I need you to join his pack, to be his Beta. It’s the only choice. You can leave, but they’re not going to let him live.”

“Stiles,” Scott nearly hissed.

Stiles looked at him, open and raw. “Please Scott. He’s going to die, and I’m going to live my life without him.”

In another time, before things got dire it might have been okay, but in this moment, Stiles looked like he was going to break.

“He’s my Other Scott,” Stiles begged. “Please don’t make me choose.”

**

Stiles met Scott in preschool.

It had been the second day of school and Scott had been having an asthma attack. Stiles was the only child who had stepped forward instead of running away. He hadn’t known what to do, but he had called for the teacher. After the attack had passed, Scott and Stiles had sat side by side on the edge of the playground.

“Does that happen a lot?” Stiles had asked.

Scott had bowed his head in shame.

“Show me what to do, and I’ll help next time,” Stiles had offered.

Scott had looked up at him hopefully. “Really?”

Stiles had nodded. “We should be best friends, and then I’ll always be around when you need me.”

Scott’s expression had lit up. The little four year olds cemented a friendship that would exasperate their parents, but at the same time be a comfort for two only children.

**

It was always Scott and Stiles from then on. They were never curious about marks that would appear on their back, about what the world held for them in love. They only mentioned their potential Number three times.

Stiles was the first to announce that he was a prodigy of the Numbers in the third grade and loudly declared that Lydia Martin was his. Stiles had proclaimed he would never love anyone more than her. His sure attitude was found adorable by all the adults and weird to all the other kids. Everyone knew he was being dramatic and not telling the truth, except Lydia who was unaware of his existence.

But mostly life was video games and playing superheroes in Stiles’s backyard.

The second time they talked about their Numbers was when they were nine. Scott’s father had so many marks that he had never taken time to have someone count them. Melissa had married him with hope. When Scott was born that hope was something that she felt that she didn’t need, but days after Scott’s ninth birthday his father announced that he had met another of his Others, a very young girl, and he would be leaving with her. Melissa cried, and Scott’s world had been destroyed.

Scott wouldn’t come out of his room for days. Stiles had climbed up to his window and sat on the bed with him.

“My father is a jerk,” Scott said after they had sat there for a long time.

“We’re never going to be like that,” Stiles pointed out.

“What if I’m like him?” Scott said as a few tears escaped. “What if I have thousands of loves, and I keep leaving them.”

Stiles shook his head. “It’s not going to be like that for us. You won’t leave your wife because I will be there, and you won’t leave me too.”

Scott looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Promise?”

Stiles nodded, Scott hugged his best friend, and then his stomach let out a loud roar.

“Your mom will totally get us pizza,” Stiles said with a grin.

Scott returned his grin. “You think?”

“I know,” Stiles told him positively.

She did, gratefully.

**

The only other time their Others were brought up was when the John Stilinski was watching his wife die.

"They're Ones," Stiles said, watching the heartbreak as his father stroked her hair, machines slowly beeping. 

“I don’t know if he’ll be okay with her not here,” Stiles said, his face full of too much worry for a child his age.

Scott nodded. "He'll be okay, he has you."

Stiles looked at his father. "I'll take care of him now."

Ones who lost their Others were only half a person. Stiles, at age eleven, had tried to be there for his father. A tiny little thing to fill the void his mother had left in his father’s soul. Every smile, every year was a triumph to Stiles, but he knew that his father was never going to be the same. 

**

Then they grew up and found new fascinations. 

They both tried out for lacrosse, which the town was unhealthy obsessed with. Both boys were terrible at it. 

Scott and Stiles developed their own unhealthy obsession with following John on calls. They were twelve the first time that they saw a dead body. John had thought he was going to have to shell out more for therapy, but the boys were more enthralled than mentally scarred, and unfortunately proceeded to get more and more bold in following John on his calls. 

They also started to grow and change and became very awkward boys going through puberty.

**

Stiles’s mark appeared first, but he didn’t say anything, hoping against hope that another would join it, anything not to be a One.

Scott called him one morning. “I got them!”

“You sound chipper,” Stiles said.

“I only have twelve,” Scott said happily, his voice muffled.

“Are you trying to look at them?” Stiles questioned. “You’re going to break yourself.”

“I just want to see if more appear,” Scott said, suddenly worried. “More won’t appear right? I won’t be like my dad?”

Stiles reached to his spine and rubbed the lone mark there, the lone dot that had been there for two months. “No, Scott you know how it is, you get the marks all at once, and you never get more or less.”

Scott let out a noise of joy. Stiles sat down and sunk into the couch.

He didn’t want to be a One. It was almost too much pressure. He had seen what it was like for Ones. He didn’t want that.

He sulked for a weekend and then told Scott, who looked at him with a bit of reverence. Scott would think that he was lucky. Scott was just glad that they wouldn’t be like his philandering dad, it wouldn’t occur to Scott that one day Stiles could end up just like John Stilinski, widowed.

It was all set. They had their fate. They also had the rest of their lives to live.

Then they went out and rode their bikes through the woods. It was life of two young boys, growing up in Beacon Hills, almost normal.

And then Scott got turned into a werewolf and they met their Others and they started Sophomore year and then they figured out what Scott was. 

It was a busy day.

And it wasn't so normal or simple anymore.

**

Scott met his Other first. He had just been bit the night before. 

Scott was just sitting in class, listening in on things that he shouldn’t be able to hear, and then she walked in.

Her hair was brown, and she had dimples. Scott breathed in.

"Is it possible to smell colors?" Scott whispered to Stiles.

Stiles looked up, raised his eyebrow at the new girl.

“Other,” Scott mouthed. 

“Are you sure,” Stiles said almost too loud.

"You know," Scott whispered, motioning for Stiles to keep it down. "When you see them you know."

Stiles cocked his head. "She’s not bad."

Scott smacked him, without taking his eyes off of her breathing deeply. "That is my Other. She’s perfect"

"Ouch," Stiles said rubbing his shoulder where Scott’s hand had hit far harder than he was used to. 

Stiles was just hoping that it wasn't his time yet. He wasn't sure he wanted an Other. 

That moment wasn't his time though. 

His time was six hours later.

**

Stiles went through the day, finding everything a little surreal. Something was off with Scott, something was off with him, it was a day where he could feel anticipation building in his stomach, like there was something waiting for him just out of his line of sight.

Which apparently there was.

The guy just appeared, Stiles was sure that it was just him and Scott and trees and suddenly the feeling on his periphery just appeared. 

They were in the woods looking for Scott's inhaler, and Stiles looked up. 

And there he was.

The guy didn't say anything, strutting in all cocky and sure. Stiles couldn’t manage to do anything but just stare at the guy with the dark hair, piercing eyes, the leather jacket, and aggressive eyebrows.

Stiles felt like he was flying and underwater and he was alive when he didn't even know that he had been dead. There were so many emotions coursing through his body, he was surprised it was staying in one piece.

It was a wonder that Stiles didn’t throw up right there with all of the emotions. The nausea was mixed a little fear, which was normal when a guy in leather appeared in the woods. It was not the most romantic meeting of Ones, but it was sure effective at getting the point across.

Then Stiles began to piece together who this was, outside of the whole love of his life thing. Stiles had seen pictures of the surviving Hales on his father’s kitchen table when he was younger and had felt badly for the two teens who had lost everything.

The guy didn't look at him, which he would come to find was going to be their normal relationship. So often in the coming year, he would question if his feeling was even true. His trusty google-fu never failed him though, every single account of finding your One was just like he felt after he saw Derek Hale, though most omitted the nausea.

Derek however didn't seem to be visibly affected. 

Stiles tried to calm himself, because maybe he didn't need an Other. Maybe they could just exist without the pairing. Maybe it only meant something because of social pressure. Perhaps if they didn't acknowledge it, then maybe it didn't matter. It wasn't like Derek Hale was going to pipe up about their relationship status, especially when the next day Stiles accused Derek of murder.

 

**

Over the next few weeks, Stiles became a little more acquainted with his Other through some angry grabbing, that Stiles so didn’t think was sexy, but maybe a little deserved. Derek seemed to be quite fine with trying to help Scott and at the same time Derek was a master at ignoring Stiles, but there were moments however when something seemed to bubble up and Derek would be growling at Stiles. The touch and the attention made Stiles want. His experience made him not.

To say it was a confusing time was a mild understatement.

Stiles was a little relieved when Derek was let off for the murder, truth be told. He was also panicking that he would have to do something about him now. That for some reason Derek would acknowledge this thing between them, worse that Derek would tell someone else.

However, that was when Scott accused Derek of another murder. It was a game of push and pull and never ending drama that meant that neither of them had time to fess up. It suited both of them just fine.

They just went through it all pretending that the big elephant in the room didn’t exist, the big glaring fact that they were each other’s Ones.

Stiles didn’t know where the plan to get Danny to help came from. It was cruel and unusual and had more to do with helping Scott than actually thinking through his cockamamie scheme. He was sitting in his room with Danny and his cousin “Miguel”, and all the sudden “Miguel” was shirtless. Stiles tried not to stare. He felt the connection between them, feelings seemed to be almost tangible in the air.

Danny had looked at him oddly, Stiles wondered if Danny could feel the energy between him and Derek. Stiles had the thought that the skin on display was something that was only meant for him. Those muscles and abs and lack of fat were for him. This was all his, if he had the stones to bring it up. Stiles had licked his lips and turned back to the mission.

Because there was also now an incredible amount of terrifying anxiety that this perfect specimen of a man wouldn’t be pleased with a skinny virgin.

Later that night when everyone had left, when it was just Stiles, he wrapped his hand around his own dick and remembered what he would never be able to unsee.

It would become a recurring theme in his fantasies for the next year. He tried to rationalize it. It was just his body. His mind didn’t want to commit to Derek. He couldn’t go through with it. But Derek was seeping into every aspect of his life.

**

Life changed for Stiles at odd moments. 

His life changed the most in a simple moment. He had a choice. He had the phone in his hand, and he had the paralyzed body of his Other in the pool. The choice was for safety at the risk of Derek’s life. It would only take a second to place a call.

But he couldn’t deal with those seconds. He was hitting the water before he registered that there was a choice. He dove into the pool after Derek instead of calling for help. After ten minutes in the pool he regretted that choice, he regretted not making a call instead of jumping in to save his paralyzed Other. Derek was a werewolf he could have lasted the minute it would take to call Scott, but in those seconds he had only thought of Derek.

It was strangely quiet in the pool. Just the slap of water against his ears, the sound of his own heartbeat in his throat, but it was so quiet and just the two of them.

They had never been this close before. Their bodies were flush together—his arm around Derek's chest and his face pressed against Derek's shoulder. True, there was the Kanima and the imminent chance of drowning, but he felt like he was melting into Derek. Like he was coming home. That there was peace. 

"If you bring it up now, I will drown myself," Derek said in a hiss.

Stiles had to keep moving. He was driven by the need to keep alive, to keep both of them alive, because it couldn’t end like this. If he didn't, Derek would die, and Stiles would have to live without a chance. Even if Derek never really spoke to Stiles, at least he still existed. He was alive. 

One of them dying seemed an unfair cheat.

The worst thing Stiles could think of was Derek no longer existing. To have that hole in his life and barely a memory to fill it.

They tread water in silence, watching the Kanima.

Stiles lost track of time. He just felt Derek. Somewhere they had began to breathe on the same inhale, and Stiles was sure that their heartbeats were timing out together. 

Stiles never asked how he of all of 147 pounds, maybe 150 soaking wet, was able to tread water for two hours holding the brick of a man that was Derek. 

When he was pulled out of the pool it felt like something was tearing him in two as he landed away from Derek, muscles aching. He almost hated Scott for pulling them out, as illogical as that was.

Afterwards, Derek looked over at him those eyes blazing and really looking. Stiles offered him a quirk of the mouth. Then there was the Kanima and the drama, but before that was the moment that changed Stiles’s life.

Because he had known before, but he never had wanted.

Now, he wanted.

**

Derek had his new little Betas and new impending doom, and Stiles was a wuss. There were more important things going on. He could barely deal with Scott’s love life, never mind trying to deal with his own non-existent one.

Stiles would close his eyes and listen. He could hear Derek’s heartbeat out there. It had happened when they were in the pool. He was absolutely sure it was the fact they spent so touching. Stiles was willing to bet that they had spent two hours with him pressed right up against the mark in Derek’s spine that was just for him.

He couldn’t bear the thought of Derek, but he couldn’t think about not having Derek. He was nothing if not a walking contradiction.

He needed Derek’s heartbeat, like Derek needed his anger and vengeance. It was fucked up, but it was what could get him through.

He would hear Derek’s heartbeat when he was alone in his room. He would stroke himself in time with it. He could feel it around him, even as the memory of Derek’s body began to fade.

It got him through to the next thing trying to kill him, to Matt’s gun in his face.

When they were lying on the ground after being attacked, their bodies paralyzed by the Kanima’s venom, and Stiles understood that this might be a bad time to talk. There was a crazy killer with a gun, and everything seemed to be hanging in the balance. 

They lay on the floor for an hour, hearing screams and not knowing what was going on. In the midst of powerlessness Stiles was comforted to know that he wasn’t alone.

Stiles went home that night and stared at the ceiling for a very long time, still hearing Derek’s heartbeat. He didn’t reach down and touch his raging hard on. Things had gotten far too intimate, and he would just feel dirty

 

**

As far as plans went theirs to fight the Alpha’s was not the most well done. To be fair they only had fifteen minutes to get it together.

Scott was still looking at Stiles a little funnily after his confession, but Stiles ignored him and just kept pushing forward. Scott was a romantic, for that Stiles was grateful.

“This might be the dumbest plan in the history of the universe,” Scott said, not even trying to lower his voice.

However, he was still Scott and still willing and Stiles adored him all the more for it.

“Well look on the bright side,” Stiles sighed, his arm was duct taped to his body for a temporary solution as they limped down the cavern tunnel. His arm was probably broken in a few places, but adrenaline hadn’t let him feel the pain. The duct tape would have to hold for a while.

The tunnel was lit up with open flame, and Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the over the top showiness of the Alphas’ lair. “We won’t be alive to have to live it down.”

The Alphas had gone way over board with the whole creature feature thing. They had found some abandoned mines in in the course of the last year and a half and had turned them into something dark and foreboding and strangely flashy. It was like they didn’t have a decorator they had a set designer.

Stiles and Scott walked into the cavern.

The Alphas all looked up. 

Stiles had to keep his face neutral because Derek was there in the middle, bound with wolfsbane ropes, blood seeping from his wrists. He had struggled and paid for it. 

Derek was trussed up, prepared for Scott to make his move. He looked up at Stiles with angry eyes, like him being here betrayed everything in the world.

Scott smiled as if there weren’t five Alphas ready to attack. He just smiled that sweet innocent smile.

“Hi, guys,” Scott said warmly.

The leader stepped forward.

“You came,” he said in a deep gravelly voice.

Scott tilted his head and grinned, like this was just a normal thing, but when he spoke next it was so commanding Stiles nearly jumped away from him. This was not his friend, this was the wolf, Scott all grown up.

“I’ve come for my Alpha.”

There was silence in the room, and everyone stared at Scott. Especially Derek who looked shocked. 

Finally, the leader recovered, and then started laughing.

“That’s your plan?” the leader said. “You’re going to march in here and think that one more Beta is going to make him strong enough to get you out of here? And why did you bring the human.”

Scott shrugged. “Present?”

Derek growled.

They all looked over at him. He had always been menacing, but there was something downright predatory in his eyes.

There was a flash of uncertainty in the all the Alphas’ faces.

“You know, you can have him,” Scott said, nodding towards Stiles.

Stiles looked over at him and rolled his eyes.

Scott just gave him a grin, the Alphas looked a little thoughtful.

That was all that was needed to push Derek over the edge. He snarled and ripped away from where he had been tied. He managed to attack a few of the nearest Alphas with his hands still bound.

Scott reacted just as quickly, going after the leader.

“Oh yeah,” Scott said as he changed. “I brought a few more humans.”

And that was when Chris Argent came in with the cavalry.

And a wolf howled for its Alpha. 

“And the pack,” Scott said to Derek with some pride, having picked a side. “The rest of it. You know, besides me.”

It was chaos. Stiles went to Derek and untied the wolfsbane ropes around his wrists. He did it one handed and with his teeth, spitting out the foul taste.

“Good thing you have a human,” Stiles muttered at the end, trying to get the rope fibers out of his tongue with his good hand.

“What are you doing here?” Derek growled.

Stiles had a whole cache of things to say, but instead he just shrugged.

“You never told me your flowers,” Stiles finally said.

Derek grabbed Stiles and pulled him down as an errant arrow flew past, barely missing Stiles. Derek was breathing heavily. The look on Derek’s face was full of so much raw emotion that Stiles didn’t know what to do.

“Stiles,” Scott said. 

Stiles looked over at Scott who was holding a wolf tight.

“I need you to kill him,” Scott growled as the Alpha fought Scott.

Stiles looked at him a little crazy.

Scott gave as much of a smile as he could. “If I kill him I’m an Alpha. Don’t make me, make you choose.”

Stiles was up in front of the werewolf in a second, avoiding Derek’s grabbing hands. 

A knife flew through the air, and Stiles was shocked to find that he caught it. Stiles looked over at Derek, who was staring at him, eyes glossy.

“Stiles,” Scott said. “I can’t hold him forever.”

Stiles turned around and plunged the knife into the Alpha, killing him with one hand. Stiles watched the expressions flitting across the Alpha’s face.

It seemed to last forever as he watched the Alpha die. The Alpha who was going to kill Derek. The Alpha who had killed in Beacon Hills. That still it didn’t make it okay because it was at Stiles’s hands.

Scott was the one who pulled Stiles back.

“Thank you,” Scott said. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to have to leave you.”

Stiles felt himself being pushed away from the fight. He knew Derek was there, but he couldn’t feel anything. He looked at Derek. Derek looked at him, so sad, but he put his hand on Stile’s neck, protecting, owning. Stiles started shaking, and lunged forward, vomiting all over Derek’s shoes. Derek didn’t remove his hand. Stiles was dry heaving, the movement sending tremors up his injured arm, reaffirming that it was miserably broken.

Suddenly, every part of him was throbbing in pain. Stiles passed out with puke on his breath, blood on his hands, and Derek’s hand on the back of his neck.

**

Stiles woke up slowly. Waiting until the last moments to actually open his eyes. His mind was muddled, but something was seriously off. One arm was restrained, and the other hand seemed to be in a vise.

In his minds eye, Stiles could see the creature he killed. It was so real, he could still name the color of the man’s human eyes if he wanted to.

He really didn’t want to.

Stiles opened his eyes, realizing that he didn’t hurt and he knew that he should.

He looked at first to see his immobilized arm was in a firm traction. Stiles had expected that he had heard the crack of it breaking, but it was still weird to see. He turned to look at his other arm. This one was mostly free. IV tubes ran up it, but it looked normal. His hand was intertwined with two other hands. Stiles looked at the hands and the muscled forearms, with black veins and a dark head resting upon them.

"Derek," Stiles rasped. "Stop."

Derek looked up. He was a strange shade of grey and still had blood on him. His eyes were a bit unfocused. Stiles didn’t need werewolf smelling to know that he reeked. It was almost welcomed though to the antiseptic smell of the room.

"Stop," Stiles said softly. "You're hurting yourself."

Derek just looked at him incredulously. Stiles was a little comforted that there was something familiar here. Derek slowly untwined his fingers from Stiles. His movements were sluggish and clumsy.

"I'm fine," Derek said, slurring only slightly.

"Is everyone else okay?" Stiles asked, wanting to know. He could still see the face of the man he killed, but the morphine was making that a little fuzzy.

Derek nodded and then shook his head a little bit as if to clear it.

Stiles just looked over him, not even trying to hide it. They were too far gone pretend their bond didn't exist anymore. Derek’s wrists were still bruised from the ropes, he was still haggard from his time at the hands of the Alphas.

Stiles reached out a stiff finger and touched Derek's hand. He traced it over the palm, running down the lines. He had once been obsessed with palm reading. His finger found Derek’s lifeline, long and bold. It was something that was a comfort. Stiles could almost see the electric sparks from where his finger trailed down to Derek’s wrist.

Derek inhaled sharply as Stiles found his pulse, neither one of them was impervious to their connection. 

It was Derek who broke the silence. "Thank you."

Stiles was sure that it was the medication making him hear things. Derek looked up at him. His eyes open and clear, full of too much emotion for Stiles to process.

"Thank Scott," Stiles said, trying to brush it off.

Derek took Stiles’s wrist and turned it over, tracing lightly over his pulse point again, feeling the light thrum there.

"I did," Derek admitted, eyes glued to where Stiles was touching.

Stiles's jaw dropped. “You said ‘thank you’ to Scott?”

Derek shrugged, looking stubborn and suspicious.

Stiles looked at him through calculating eyes. “What aren’t you telling me.”

"I had to tell the hospital," Derek said, as if he was forcing the words out.

"About what? Werewolves?" Stiles asked incredulously, thinking that unnecessary.

"I had to tell them about us being Ones," Derek confessed.

Stiles swallowed, that made more sense, but still not enough. "Why?"

Derek pursed his lips and then just gave in. "Because they weren't going to let me stay, and I couldn’t go."

Stiles grabbed at Derek's hand, needing to feel because this was almost too big of an admission. Deep down Stiles was so glad that he was here. 

Derek looked up at him and after a moment let out the big detail. "They told your father."

Stiles sunk back into the pillows but he didn’t let go.

"He's coming down the hallway," Derek said cocking his head, trying to pull his hand away from Stiles, but it was more of a token gesture and they still remained intertwined.

"I'm probably going to have to tell my dad about werewolves now, aren't I?" Stiles asked.

Derek shrugged. "Tell him what you need to."

It was seconds later that the Sheriff walked in, he looked at the scene in front of him.

"Hi, Dad," Stiles said quietly, his hand still in Derek's.

Derek looked more than uncomfortable. His father sighed and shot for the truth in the easiest way manner. "You know most people don't accuse their Other for murder in the first few days of knowing them."

"I'm feeling much better Dad, thanks for asking," Stiles said with a grin, then he looked at his arm. "Well. kind of okay."

His father just looked at him. Stiles sighed. "Dad you might want to sit down. This is going to take a while."

**

It was an hour later, Stiles still needed to say more, to try to explain better, but his body was giving up, it was achy and exhaustion was setting in.

Derek had shifted into partial wolf a couple of times to prove the werewolf point, and slowly John had become less uncomfortable, although he still looked very wary of what was looking to be his son’s lot in life.

Derek was the one who reached for the morphine button. 

"I'm fine," Stiles said, his eyes watering.

"No," Derek said, trying for bossy. "And if you don't stop hurting, you're going to keep hurting me."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. Derek returned his glare. Stiles started blinking sleepily. Derek pressed the button again.

"Don't leave me," Stiles said in a voice that was young and sleep-heavy. Derek watched him fight sleep, try to stay awake.

Finally, when Stiles was under too far to remember, Derek reached out and stroked Stiles’s hair and whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Peonies and Gerber Daisies," Stiles said sleepily.

"No," Derek whispered fervently. “Don’t ever say that again.” Stiles fell asleep. Derek watched him for a little bit, not wanting to look up.

Derek focused on Stiles, trying to ignore John.

"How much have you two talked?" John finally asked. "I mean about yourselves, about what this means."

Derek looked up at him, resigned to the moment. "None, sir," Derek said, remembering the manners his mother taught him. 

There was an uncomfortable silence again

"That is probably my fault," John finally said.

Derek cocked his head and tried not to look uncomfortable. "I’m not sure that’s true."

John shifted and sighed. He was looking at Derek like he wanted to unload a host of things and at the same time only knowing his son’s Other from the business side of a police interrogation table. 

"We lost his mother when he was young," John said finally. "It was really hard on me. We were both Ones and losing her was traumatic for both of us. I loved that woman so much and Stiles, he tried to be enough. I think it kind of made him a little wary of his own Oneness."

Derek looked back down at the sleeping Stiles. "It must have been hard," Derek acknowledged.

"Just about as hard as losing your entire family must have been," John said gently.

Derek looked at him, his face blank. He wasn’t expecting this much empathy from Stiles's father.

"Were your parents Ones?" John asked.

"Yeah," Derek said quietly. "All born wolves are. We're monogamous and mate for life."

“And Scott?” John said. “He’s a twelve.”

“He’s a made wolf,” Derek said slowly. “My father used to say that bitten wolves are usually first come first serve, the first Other he meets after the change is the One that they want to be with, they are sort of Ones, they can find someone else, but it isn’t as good. It is a big grey area.”

John sighed. “Scott is like a son to me.”

“He’s…” Derek trailed off and then looked John in the eye. “He’s my family now. I’ll look out for him, I’ll do all I can. Chris was hesitant about Allison and Scott, but I can work with him to make sure that he knows what is at stake. I can make peace with the Hunters, even the Argents.”

Derek looked like he was swallowing a bitter pill, but that look softened something in John. The fierce loyalty was something that John could appreciate. Although he still had an odd look on his face.

“Ask,” Derek said quietly, although it was almost in Alpha voice.

“Are you going to bite my son?” John asked, a little warble to his voice.

“No,” Derek said without question. “Packs are humans and wolves, he doesn’t have to change.”

The Sheriff just looked at the two of them speculatively, he wondered if Derek was aware that his hand was over Stiles’s again.

"I know, I'm not what you would have wanted for him..." Derek began.

The Sheriff interrupted. "I know my son. I've known from the time he could reach out for things that he was going to try to do things his way and that his way was going to be the most difficult way possible. I'd hardly expect this to be any different."

Derek swallowed.

“I also know that there is a great deal of leniency with Ones and their Others, in the legal sense,” the Sheriff said. “The statutory laws don’t apply as harshly, but consent is still needed, Werewolf or not. Other or not. I will not let my son be hurt. He’s in high school, and you’re not really in the best place in your life. So maybe you take things slowly. Really slowly.”

Derek bowed in uncharacteristic show of submission. “I really don’t know what I’m doing.”

The Sheriff gave a laugh. “Of course you don’t, nobody does. Just do your best, and you won’t find yourself rotting to death in a jail cell.”

“That sounds surprisingly fair,” Derek agreed.

**

Stiles woke up bleary a little later. It was dark, and he and Derek there alone. Derek was in the corner in a chair, staring at the ceiling.

"C'mere," Stiles said groggily.

Derek took a hesitant step forward.

"S'pid wolf," Stiles said impatiently as he moved as close to the side of the bed as possible, wincing as he jarred his arm.

Derek was there in a second, and Stiles pulled him down. Derek wasn't going to fight Stiles, not with his injuries. He found himself on his side next to Stiles on the ridiculously small hospital bed. Derek hit the morphine button again. Stiles had surgery early tomorrow and would be released, but right now his body needed to heal.

“You sleep,” Stiles said, nuzzling Derek.

Derek closed his eyes a little bit, feeling exhausted.

"So pretty," Stiles said clearly, although he seemed to be knocked out again. "Coulda had anybody, sorry it's me."

Derek buried his face in Stiles shoulder. "I'm not such a treat." Stiles made a dismissive noise. Derek reached a hand up and placed it on Stiles’s chest. 

It was only when silence fell, broken by only Stiles sleepy breaths that Derek spoke.

“Your heartbeat has become my anchor,” Derek admitted to his sleeping One. Stiles snuggled into him in his drug-induced sleep.

Derek let sleep take him.

**

Stiles woke up almost wanting to cry at the pain in his arm. He didn’t even open his eyes. Derek was still in his bed and instinctively reached out to take some of the pain.

“They’ll be coming to take you for surgery soon,” Derek told him, and Stiles heard the familiar click of his morphine button.

Stiles nodded and let it take over him again. 

He woke up a little while later, this time he woke up by himself on the bed. He was almost tempted to make himself believe that hadn’t happened.

“Boyd and Erica have been chained up,” Scott was saying.

“It’s been months,” Derek said, sounding angry. “They’ve been kept that long?”

“You can’t kill the Alpha’s twice, stop looking like you need more vengeance,” Scott said. “They’re waiting at your house.”

Stiles opened his eyes. Derek was looking at him, concerned. Scott prodded Derek towards the door.

“He’s getting pins put into his arm,” Scott said firmly. “Not having open heart surgery. Go take care of pack. I’ll take care of him.” Derek looked at Scott sharply, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“I took care of him for eleven years before we met you,” Scott said. “Have a little faith.” Derek looked very skeptical, but he didn’t say anything, just looked over at Stiles.

Stiles nodded, and Derek hesitantly left the room.

“That is eventually not going to be weird right?” Stiles asked groggily.

Scott came over. “I’m so sorry man.”

Stiles swallowed. “He’s not so bad. He has been taking my pain.”

Scott shook his head. “That wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Stiles shook his head, because he had forgotten. In the warmth of Derek’s presence, a little of the drama had faded away. 

“I would have done it,” Scott continued.

“But then I would have had to choose,” Stiles finished, closing his eyes. “Thank you, I understand.” 

Behind his eyes he could still see the face of the Alpha.

“I should have done it,” Scott said.

When Stiles opened his eyes, he saw Scott’s earnest eyes.

“Why?” Stiles asked.

“I’m–" Scott said.

Stiles shrugged. “So? That doesn’t mean anything more about you. You’re a werewolf, not a monster. That doesn’t mean that killing in self-defense is any better for you.”

Scott opened his mouth to say something but stopped. The nurse came in to take Stiles to surgery, so the awkward conversation officially ended, and Stiles was relieved. He had reached his quota for awkward and uncomfortable, and it didn’t look like it was going to get any easier. _Of course the werewolf thing was the easiest thing in his life._

**

When he woke up after his surgery, he was back in his room with his arm once again in traction, but this time in a big white cast. 

His eyes went around the room, and it was full.

Scott was sitting on a chair with Allison on his lap. Isaac was leaning against the wall by the window. Erica and Boyd were sitting in the windowsill. Jackson was lying on the extra bed in the room, and Lydia was sitting cross-legged at the end of it, looking like a princess. To his right, Derek sat in the chair by the bed. Stiles’s father stood behind him.

“Seriously, not happening,” Lydia was saying.

“It needs to be done, dude,” Scott told him

“Are you going to pay for it with your vet money?” Jackson challenged.

“The Hale Pack should have a Hale House,” Allison said finally.

Derek looked a little annoyed at all of them, then he noticed that Stiles was awake. “Stiles.” 

Everybody in the room turned to look at him.

“Hi?” Stiles said, a lot overwhelmed.

“I got you balloons,” Lydia said nonchalantly. “We’re even now.”

“Thanks?” Stiles said.

“You have a bionic arm now!” Erica said from the windowsill. She was giving him a smile, but her eyes still looked haunted and Boyd wouldn’t stop touching her.

“Just a normal one,” Stiles said. “With pins to set off metal detectors. I’d give you a hug and a welcome back, but I don’t think I’m allowed. How are you two?”

Erica looked like she wanted to cry. “You’re asking us?”

“We’ve mostly been bored,” Boyd said.

“Played a lot of word games,” Erica added bravely. “We can play them with you since you won’t be able to do much for a bit.”

“No,” Boyd said, with that same haunted look. “No more word games.”

“I’m rebuilding the Hale House,” Derek spoke up, and everyone looked over at him in surprise. He was looking a little heartbrokenly at Erica and Boyd. 

“That’s nice,” Stiles said, trying to figure out what was going on. He had always woken up alone in the hospital room. This room was full of people who were specifically here for him.

“Maybe this is too much for Stiles,” his father broke in. “He’s getting released today. We’ll be home soon.”

Melissa McCall had slipped into the room at the end of the conversation, Stiles hadn’t noticed her, she seemed to read Isaac’s uncomfortable posture.

“Isaac,” she said. “Would you like to stay with us until Derek has the house ready?”

Isaac looked over at Derek. Something wordless passed between them.

“It might be awhile,” Derek said to Isaac and then he turned towards Melissa. “It is going to be awhile.”

She looked at him, and giving him a mother’s look.

“There is a lot going on here,” Melissa said softly. “We’re not going to stop worrying about you guys, and we are probably going to object to your extra-curricular activities, but John, Chris, and I are going to try to help you out.”

Everybody in the room shifted a little. Scott just stared at his mother. She had never been a strong maternal force, but was suddenly looking at them like she was going to make them cookies after the next night they spent fighting something that she hadn’t known existed a year ago.

Stiles couldn’t help but think that suddenly there were some really weird dynamics going on.

“Where’s Peter?” Stiles blurted out, not really wanting Peter, but needing a distraction from whatever heaviness was in this room.

The young people in the room all turned towards Derek. Derek didn’t look at them but somehow he seemed to sit taller.

“He killed one of them,” Derek said. “He chose Alpha. He came last night. I told him this was my pack and my territory.”

“I helped him pack,” Lydia said, pressing her lips together. It didn’t look like she had folded his shirts to “help” him. 

“And I explained to him the terms,” Jackson said, sounding bored, but his hand went protectively over hers.

“I was there,” Isaac said.

Stiles made a mental note to ask more specific questions when the parentals weren’t there, because the story sounded interesting.

Melissa was looking at Stiles. “I think Stiles needs to rest so he can go home this afternoon.”

Stiles gave her a grateful look.

Everybody said their goodbyes to Stiles. His father and Derek didn’t move as Scott put one arm around his mother and walked into the hallway.

Derek looked like he wanted to leave, Stiles had been a raw exposed nerve for weeks now, he had blood on his hands. He didn’t know if he wanted Derek to stay or leave. He didn’t know if he was prepared to accept what Derek could offer. Stiles was used to being independent and a leader. Didn’t know even how to ask for comfort from Derek.

It was complicated by matters of the past. All he could see was his mother dying and part of his father too. The smell was the same, the room was too similar. 

“Derek,” Stiles said, trying for comforting. “They need you now.” Derek didn’t move for a minute. He was gritting his teeth.

John put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”

Derek stood and looked at Stiles. He didn’t say anything, but he looked like he wanted to. Finally, he let John lead him out of the room. Stiles let out a breath and just leaned back. Alone was the best feeling he had in a long while. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the creature—the man he killed. He could feel the tears coming.

But he wasn’t entirely alone. He still could hear Derek’s heartbeat in the stillness.

**

Stiles slept for a few days in his own bed. It was quiet at his house, except for the occasional buzzing of his phone. He just needed a little time. He couldn’t bear to be around people right now. He needed space, and there just seemed to be so many people around. He was an only child of a widowed parent, he was not used to the constant calls and offers of company.

He couldn’t play video games, and doing anything on the computer was agonizingly slow with one hand. He had been mainlining movies, but he had spent the last few hours listening to Star Wars while staring at the ceiling, trying actively not to think.

But then he started hearing voices downstairs. He waited for them to call to him, but they didn’t seem to want him. Stiles knew it was Derek, and finally his curiosity got the better of him, and he slowly got up and made his way down the stairs.

His dad and Derek were hunched over a blueprint on the table. Derek turned to the entryway, his face carefully blank.

John watched them, a little amused. “Derek brought over the plans for the new Hale House. Come see.”

Stiles walked over, carefully standing on the other side of the table from Derek. Stiles didn’t know how he felt. He looked at the blueprints, not really seeing them.

“The bottom one is the main floor,” John said when it seemed like neither of them were going to speak. “There is a study/library, kitchen, dining room, and living room.”

Stiles nodded, still not able to really process.

“The second floor has a couple of small bedrooms for guests and a rec room,” John continued. “And the top floor has mini-suites for those who will be living there.”

Stiles nodded seeing the eight rooms, he finally looked at Derek. Derek looked at him, his eyes big and worried. Stiles couldn’t take it, didn’t want the pity anymore. 

“Which one is yours?” Stiles asked, needing a distraction, finding that he couldn’t get enough deflection. Derek looked uncomfortable.

John tapped a room off of the bottom floor. “The Alpha’s house is here.”

It was a large square next to the house, connected to the kitchen by a hallway.

Stiles looked taken aback. “It’s huge.”

Derek shifted on his feet. John had a smirk on his face. Stiles blamed the latent drugs still in his system for the fact that he didn’t get it right away. This house that Derek was getting his father’s advice on was the house that, as Derek’s Other, he would probably be living in. It all became shockingly personal. That was why Derek was bringing the information here. This was going to be his house. That was his very big room that one day he would share with Derek, while their pack all lived under one roof.

Stiles gave them a weak smile. “I’ve got to lay down.”

He high tailed it up to his room and picked up his phone for the first time in two days.

**

His first call was always to Scott. Scott had offered to bring Isaac or Lydia, but Stiles had told him he was still not up to crowds and wanted to see his best friend.

“He’s building a house,” Stiles growled after Scott had arrived. “He’s building a fucking house, and I don’t know anything about what is going on in the future. He’s building us a house and there is all this pack stuff. I’m not thinking about a house and a future. I’m just thinking about now, and I’m seventeen. 

Scott just watched Stiles frantic pacing with wide concerned eyes.

“I’m dealing with peer pressure and SATs and killing someone and he’s _building a house_ ,” Stiles raged.

“Did you talk about it?” Scott asked. “I mean that is how Allison and I do it. Talking helps.”

Stiles continued to rant. “I can’t get beyond his fucking abs enough to think about a goddamned house or talking. I’m seventeen. I can’t do anything but think about him naked, and now I’m going to have a house and future.” 

Stiles fell to his bed and tried not to groan as pain shot through his arm.

“It isn’t all happening today,” Scott tried.

Stiles looked up at his headboard and traced his fingers on the wood there. “But it is happening,” Stiles sighed. “He’s older. It kind of didn’t make sense until I realized he is at the ‘house building’ stage of his life, and I’m just at the ‘I need to attempt to finish high school in one piece’ stage. This is fucking insane.”

“Do you wish you had been right about Lydia?” Scott asked, almost laughing.

Stiles sighed wearily. “So very much.”

“You don’t have to,” Scott said, his forehead wrinkling. “I mean I don’t get how you are going to not, he’s your One, but I’ve heard about Ones who know their Others and just wait.”

Stiles sat up. “Is that allowed?”

Scott shrugged. “I think so. I don’t think that just because you meet your Other, you have to do anything.”

Stiles thought about this for a moment.

Scott shrugged. “I mean you aren’t the first person that he’s slept with.”

Stiles’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“He’s not forcing anything down your throat,” Scott said. 

“Well if he would do that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Stiles muttered. “I’m seventeen, and I’m horny. I don’t want a house. I want blow jobs.”

Scott put his hand on his ears. “Too much information.”

Stiles grabbed a pillow and tried to smother himself with it, letting out an impressive human growl. He threw the pillow across the room and sat up. He looked at Scott his eyes wide. 

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

**

Stiles went back downstairs after Scott left, and showered. He had been taking a lot of baths lately. He didn’t care that it was a huge process with his arm. It was just soothing to bury his head underwater. It was quiet there.

The house was empty, his dad had come into his room and seen if he needed anything, Stiles hadn’t said that he just needed to be left alone. 

Stiles had just been planning on getting a glass of water, but the plans caught his attention. The big glaring Alpha suite caught his attention. It was like a mini house. It had a few smaller rooms. Three of them. Stiles looked at them for a little bit, thought about it.

The natural progression of Ones, of Others. Derek was building a house that had room for a family. Stiles’s heart slammed into his chest. He was seventeen. He could deal with werewolves. He couldn’t deal with kids.

**

Stiles had been mulling things over for a week. He had taken phone calls from everyone and had visitors. All of them looked tired and nervous. Derek had been back once, and it had been awkward and edgy.

It was all so much to handle. Stiles had finally found his line.

Stiles had listened to them talk and it was like they always knew where each other were. It wasn’t hard to find a time when he could get Derek alone. Scott was taking the pack out for a game of paintball in the next town over. Derek would be the only one at the Hale House after the contractor left.

Stiles almost turned around three times on the short drive to Derek’s, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t just leave without saying anything.

He drove up and got out of the car, he looked at the husk of the house. Soon it would be pulled down and on the foundation a beautiful house would be built. 

Derek was already standing on the porch, waiting. Stiles got out of the car and moved before he could talk himself out it. He sprinted up the porch and grabbed Derek by the back of the neck, being careful of his broken arm. There was no hesitation between the two of them. Derek slid his arms around Stiles, pulling them flush against each other. Stiles let out a moan that he felt like he had been holding in for years as his lips slid across Derek’s mouth. It was warm and wet and hot and insistent against his. This was another thing that he took a moment to remember.

He had always been sure about Derek being his Other. He had never doubted it. He understood that this was the way the world worked, that Derek was able to be everything for him.

Stiles pulled away, as if he was burned. He nearly lunged away from Derek. Derek looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face, his eyebrows pulled together.

“I killed a man,” Stiles whispered. Derek looked at him, pain shone in his eyes.

“I’ve thought a lot about it,” Stiles said, voice coming fast, trying to get the words out before his courage left. “I can’t regret it. I am not sorry that everyone I love, everyone I need is still alive. Waking up was hard, but I just…I’m sorry Derek. My dad is going to be pissed, but I’ll be back. Don’t be a grave, and I won’t either. I just I can’t breathe like this. It’s all too much, right now.”

Stiles turned and sprinted to the Jeep and got in. He looked up for a second, breathing hard. Derek just looked at him, the singed bannister cracking under his hands. Stiles turned around and backed out, looking at his hastily packed belongings in the back of his Jeep. He peeled away.

**

John went through shock, anger, and a little depression. Derek sat with him, and they talked often. Derek stayed with him for a bit while the house was being worked on, and took care of him. John was always muttering about how Derek was worse than Stiles, because Derek could smell the bad food he had eaten .

Erica and Boyd were jumpy, and they snuck out of their houses most night and slept on the floor of Stiles’s bedroom when Derek was there. John would make them all breakfast the next morning, without comment. Nobody was really thrilled about going on, but all of them seemed to want to.

Derek watched his house resurrect itself.

The rest of the pack went to their senior year.

Without Stiles.

It told almost a year before any of them even said his name, but never in Derek’s presence.

For three years, the calls came sporadically to Scott. Stiles was alive, he had become the galley worker on a rickety cargo boat that had routes in the Pacific. He would call when he was on land in Alaska, Russia, China, Australia. He had been cautious the first year, when he was still seventeen, but the calls had come more frequently when he turned eighteen and there was nothing to be done for any of it.

Scott would only listen. He had learned with the first few times not to talk back, as if Stiles couldn’t bear it. The conversations always ended the same.

“Tell my dad I love him,” Stiles would say. “Tell Derek…” That thought was never finished, and it was always the end of the call.

Scott told Derek every time. But it wasn’t as if he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. He could still feel the ghost of Stiles’s heartbeat thumping in time with his.

**

“I just put them on the grill,” Jackson was yelling. “They’re not even rare yet, I’m not over cooking them.”

It was summer and they had been living in the house for two years. The rooms upstairs were full, and they were Pack.

The back yard had be meticulously planned by Jackson, who had his own room in the house. He wasn’t totally a werewolf, but wasn’t not one. Lydia was there also, she lorded over them, but she different from the human race. This was home to them both. They had joined the group like they were expected. Jackson said he would not have a house without barbecue patio. Derek had just cocked his head and said: “build it.”

“You’re burning the vegetables,” Lydia pointed out. “Some of us actually would rather not eat meat, raw or otherwise.”

At that moment, all the wolves froze. They heard the Jeep—the familiar sputter. The lot for the cars was to the side of the house, it was in full view of the patio. The Jeep came to a rest in the empty spot, and everyone was still. 

Lydia, Melissa, John, and Danny sensed something was going on with the wolves, but they all seemed to be waiting on Derek. 

Lydia grabbed Melissa by the arm as she stepped towards the Jeep.

“We’re waiting for Derek,” Lydia whispered.

Stiles stepped out of the Jeep. He looked at them but nobody moved. 

Except John. He was at the Jeep’s door, opening it, and wrapping his son in a hug almost before the Jeep was shut off. John pulled back and looked at Stiles, smile a million miles long. Stiles smiled back. He was older, the baby face had given way to cheekbones. The hair wasn’t buzzed or needing gel, it was perfectly in-between. His eyes held something, as if he had learned to hide a bit of his emotions, as if everything wasn’t instantly readable on his face.

Stiles patted his father’s arm and looked at the rest of the pack, they all looked at Derek. Family had privilege. Pack had to wait for their leader. Stiles stepped forward slowly, approaching Derek, hands at his side. When he was in front of Derek he lowered his head.

“Permission to return,” Stiles said. 

Stiles couldn’t see the surprise in Derek’s eyes, bowed as he was. Stiles had learned werewolf etiquette somewhere along the way. Derek himself could hardly remember what an Alpha was supposed to do. He knew very little of the etiquette from his parents, the Argents had taught him most of what he knew.

“Granted,” Derek said, his voice rough.

Stiles looked up. “I have a tent.”

Derek looked surprised. “We have guests rooms.”

Everyone let out a breath, and Scott bounded forward before Derek could change his mind. Scott started babbling, and Stiles was pulled into the fold. Derek just watched. 

John came up next to him. “Thank you.” 

“What did you expect?” Derek said.

John just nodded. “I had no idea what you would do when he came back.”

Derek shrugged and he looked at Stiles who was calmly listening to the rest of the pack talking.

“You sounded like you knew he would,” Derek said cocking his head a little, knowing neither of them had heard a word from Stiles’s mouth in three years.

“Of course he was coming back,” John said taking a pull of his beer. “Maybe you guys will finally talk.”

Derek sighed. “He ran.”

“He was seventeen and scared,” John pointed out. “He had a lot to run from. Forever is a heartbreaking length of time when you are at that age. Maybe you should think about the fact that he came back.”

“I know,” Derek said shrugging. “Go see your son.” 

With that Derek turned away from the reunion scene and walked into the house.

**

Derek was in the study hours later, looking over bills when Stiles came in. He was the same, just little details were different. He carried himself a little taller and didn’t seem to be all over the place anymore. His eyes weren’t as shifty, and seemed to seriously see what was in front of them.

Those eyes seemed to be drinking Derek in, like a man who had gone far too long without water. Finally, he shook himself off and put a plastic baggie on the desk. Derek wrinkled his forehead and reached for the bag, inside were metal pendants of various sizes.

“Wherever I went, I would poke around and see if there were any packs nearby,” Stiles said, looking down at the desk. “I talked to different packs, Alaska, Eastern Russia, Asia, Australia, and a few islands. They all gave me tokens of favor.”

Derek took out a few of the pendants. “You made inroads with other packs?”

“I told them about our pack,” Stiles said. “How the Hale pack was almost decimated by hunters, and now we have this fledgling group that we’re building.”

“We?” Derek said, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles looked up and looked him straight in the eye. “I said I was the Other of the Pack Leader. It’s true enough. They welcomed me and said that if I ever needed anything, if any of the Pack needed anything that we could call on them. Also, they would pass the message on, and any packs or Omegas passing through the territory will check in with Alpha Hale.”

Derek blinked. “I didn’t know that you would do that.”

Stiles shrugged. “The first one was rough, Alaska, I messed up protocol because I didn’t know that there was such thing. I think I messed up in Russia too, but that could have just been the vodka and the language barrier. They’re old school formal and at the same time so not.”

“And you would march into other packs territory and say ‘hi’?” Derek asked incredulously. 

Stiles looked down again, when he spoke it was a little rough. “It helped me remember what I was part of, of what I was coming back to. Werewolves were the easy part of my life.”

When he looked up, Derek was just staring at him, there was something earnest in his eyes.

“We still are,” Derek said simply, knowing full well everything else was still a little sticky.

“You aren’t mad,” Stiles said, looking confused.

Derek shook his head and motioned for the chair. “Tell me about the other packs.”

Stiles looked at the chair for a second and then sat. He started talking hesitantly about his travels, of meeting the first pack, and about his time. Derek listened and occasionally told little stories of what had happened to them while he was gone. 

It became their nightly thing.

**

“Never thought I’d see the day when you made your bed, complete with hospital corners,” Scott said, coming to the guest room Stiles was sleeping in. Every morning, Scott would come down in his pajamas, and they would go to the kitchen and eat cereal. Stiles shrugged and followed Scott down to the kitchen.

“How great is this, man?” Scott said excitedly. “Us living together!”

Stiles laughed. “We spent so many weekends together growing up, this isn’t such a big deal.”

Scott pouted. “But I leave my girlfriend all warm and snuggly for your ungrateful ass and listen to your stories and tell you gossip while we watch cartoons now.”

“Still seems like high school,” Stiles said with a grin.

“But we can totally eat cookies if we want,” Scott pouted.

“But we don’t,” Stiles countered.

“But we could,” Scott said triumphantly.

They walked through the second floor balcony to the sweeping stairway.

“How many time have you guys jumped down these?” Stiles asked with a smile.

Scott laughed. “Only when Derek isn’t home.”

Stiles tested out the bannister and then raised an eyebrow at Scott. Scott gave him an encouraging grin. Stiles swung a leg over the bannister and slid down to the bottom.

“So did you miss us?” Scott asked, walking down the stairs like a normal person.

“I called you whenever I could,” Stiles pointed out moving towards the kitchen. “Those phone calls from across the ocean in the middle of bumfuck nowhere were expensive.”

Scott smiled deeply, then he frowned.

“I’m sorry about asking you to kill that Alpha,” Scott said.

“Dude for the hundredth time, I’m okay with it,” Stiles said as the entered the kitchen. “Well, I got okay with it. I just needed some time.”

“You took a lot of time,” Scott said, petulance tingling his voice.

Stiles looked at him. “I’m sorry. I know you did so much for me, and I just left.”

Scott grinned at him again. “I knew you’d be back. You made this all possible.”

“Which was yet another reason for me to hightail it out of here,” Stiles muttered opening the fridge. “This whole thing was way too much for me to deal with.”

Then an expression of curiosity crossed his face. “Was it hard? I mean. I can’t imagine being away from Allison for a month, never mind three years. I mean. I told you that you could do it, but I can’t imagine you actually leaving your Other.”

“I left you too,” Stiles pointed out. “And Dad.”

“It’s different. I don’t know how you left,” Scott told him. “I tried for a week, and I just couldn’t.”

Stiles shrugged. “I kind of figured out that we all do things differently. I hadn’t really given myself the chance to be with him. I couldn’t imagine what being a grown-up was like, and all the sudden all of it was in my face. I bailed because I couldn’t deal, but the time away made me realize that everything I wanted was here.”

Scott scrunched up his nose. “I don’t get you. Did you get it out of your system? Sow some wild oats.”

There was a movement at the doorway that lead to the Alpha house.

“You’re really fucking sucky with those werewolf senses.” Stiles swore as Scott turned to see Derek’s retreating back. 

“What did I do?” Scott was saying as Stiles ran towards the hallway that connected the two buildings. The door on the far side was halfway opened. Stiles knocked anyway.

“It’s your own risk,” Derek’s voice said.

Stiles walked in. Derek was hunched over a chair.

The room was huge, there was a balcony with doorways, but the main room had a bed in the middle of a spacious area, on the far side was a wardrobe and a changing area. From where he stood Stiles could make out a blue tiled bathroom that seemed to take up a great deal of space. 

“So, maybe we should talk,” Stiles said with a nonchalant shrug. They both had carefully avoided this conversation for five years. Derek cocked his head.

“Stop it,” Stiles said with a tired sigh. “Stop trying to hate me, and stop trying to hate this situation. We can be over that now.”

Derek just stared at him, anger in his eyes.

“You are going to lecture me about stop trying to hate this?” Derek asked. “You left for three years.”

“You _are_ mad,” Stiles said quietly.

Derek eyes were raging. “When we were finally getting somewhere, you took off. I’ve made peace, and I get it. I can’t say I’m happy about you going around the world and ‘sowing your wild oats’.”

“What did you want me to do?” Stiles asked. “I was a kid and under so much pressure. There was nothing to help me with what I was going through.”

Derek just looked at him and spoke between gritted teeth. “There was me.”

Stiles nodded, his eyes wide. “That was part of the problem. You built a house that included room for a family, for kids. I was seventeen years old. You should have tried taking me to a movie or even out to the woods to make out. Hell, you could have gotten naked, and that would have done the trick. I would never have left you, but you wouldn’t talk to me. You would barely touch me. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Derek said. “I’m really not that kind of guy. I wouldn’t have pushed you into something.”

“I know,” Stiles said quietly. “We both knew. I had to do some big things on my own and you had to let me and we both have to deal with the consequences.”

“So you just go out and test out the other packs? See what else is out there. I get it. I did, but that was before I even knew who you were. But you knew I was here you knew better, and you went away and did who knows what with who knows who. That was wrong. I was right here,” Derek growled.

“So we’re almost getting there,” Stiles said stepping forward into his space. “You’re jealous. You’re almost saying it.”

Derek seethed and spoke through clenched teeth. “You’re my Other.”

Stiles broke into a grin, it was something unabashedly pure, something Derek hadn’t seen in the month that Stiles had been back.

“We are getting somewhere,” Stiles said.

“Mine,” Derek said, stepping forward.

Stiles smiled a little at the predatory possessiveness, he wanted that. It was his by rite. Derek moved forward and kissed Stiles, one hand pulling his face forward and the other bracing them as they slammed into the wall behind him. The wall shuddered a little under the impact, but Stiles could only feel the body pressing against him, mouth sucking and biting a little. Stiles held on for dear life because this was it, being a match and caving to it. He could feel Derek’s presence, he could feel everything come alive, and every part of him was aching to get closer to Derek’s heat.

If this had happened when he was seventeen, he would have imploded happily and followed Derek around obediently for the rest of their lives. Now however, he sucked Derek’s bottom lip and bit down just enough to catch it between his teeth. Now he could give as good as he got.

Derek pulled back, licking over his bottom lip to sooth the bite Stiles left behind.

Stiles barely let him take a breath before he pulled him in again. There was a slight taste of copper. Stiles moaned into the hot wet mouth on his that had haunted his dreams, both waking and sleeping.

They went at each other testing just how much they could push. Neither gave, the electricity between them finally imploding.

Finally, Derek flung himself to the other side of the room, panting a bit. Stiles looked at him with a little smirk.

“That’s my third,” Stiles informed him.

“What?” Derek said, just a little dazed.

“That is my third kiss,” Stiles admitted, his face reddening, despite wishing that he could be cool about this. “If you do the math that means that I’ve only kissed one other person that you don’t know about. Since you know the other two are—you. The one that wasn’t you was so bland and we were so drunk and she was human. It would just be embarrassing for all of us if you go killing her to save the honor of our Number.”

“Three?” Derek asked.

“I bet your number is marginally higher,” Stiles said, his eyes a little too alert on Derek’s answer.

Derek blinked and had no place to go but honest. “Yes.”

“You don’t see me wanting to go out and rage and kill everyone who has touched you,” Stiles pointed out. “I’ve never seen a boob, dick, or lady bits. Nobody has ever seen mine, well outside of me changing, but none of them have ever touched me.”

Derek seemed to be processing, and it didn’t look like it was making sense to him.

They stood a few feet from each other. Something cross through Derek’s eyes. Stiles was curious as to what it was. He waited in a silence that he would not have been capable of three years ago.

Derek swallowed and finally it came out clear and calm. “This isn’t going to be the most easy of things and there will probably be times we hurt each other.”

“Yes,” Stiles said, having come to that conclusion years ago.

“But it isn’t like that today,” Derek said.

Stiles swallowed.

Derek took a step forward. He put himself close enough to feel Stiles’s heat, not touching, just being. Stiles breath came in pants. Derek just inhaled and closed his eyes. When he opened them, his eyes were positively piercing.

“I’m not going to have sex with you, right now,” Derek said, although his voice washed over Stiles like a promise. “I wouldn’t want you to say I used that to keep you.”

Stiles let out a disappointed whimper.

“Maybe just a little hand job between Ones?” Stiles suggested.

Derek shook his head a little, but there was a charmed grin on his face.

Stiles tried to suck in enough of a breath. “Okay, I’m going to go upstairs and jerk off, you’re more than welcome to come up.”

Derek just smiled. “Don’t be too loud, this is a house of werewolves with really good hearing.”

Stiles grabbed blindly for the doorknob and scuttled out.

When he left, Derek collapsed on the nearest chair, giving serious thoughts to rubbing one out himself. That had been everything all of the tales said it should be, and they still had their clothes on. Derek was pretty sure that they were going to die of exhaustion and dehydration if they ever got around to actually doing things.

_When._

Derek needed to invest in Gatorade.

**

That night in the study, Derek was trying to go over some of the e-mails that he had gotten from some packs in New York. Stiles came in and leaned over the desk and gave him a sloppy, wet kiss. It should have been disgusting, but it was eager and playful. Derek could definitely handle whatever was going on here. Stiles then plopped down on the chair.

“I’ve got to get my GED,” Stiles sighed. “Hopefully take some college courses in the fall. I think I’m going to try for the Police Academy this spring.”

Derek blinked.

Stiles shrugged. “There was only so many times I could read the shitty sci-fi books that were on the ship. I did a lot of planning.”

Derek nodded.

“I wanted to get my GED,” Derek said. “When Laura and I went to New York. She wouldn’t let me. I got enrolled in the high school there instead and pushed into college.”

Stiles nodded. “She sounds like a smart girl.”

“She was,” Derek said with a smile, staring at the screen, but not really seeing it. “She was good at everything and bossy as hell, just like an older sister should be.”

“Tell me about her,” Stiles suggested.

He was surprised to find Derek did. Derek started talking about Laura and his face came a live with expression and there were times that he used hand gestures. There was a lot of exasperation and love as he told Stiles about someone who meant so much to him.

Stiles, for once in his life, was more than happy to listen.

**

It was a few days later, that Stiles was making himself at home in his childhood home. There were eggshells on multiple surfaces and dishes already in the sink. John came home from a overnight shift and could only watch with a smile on his face as his son sang under his breath while he cooked.

“Well, I could get used to this,” John said, smiling at his son.

“Don’t get too excited, it is egg white omelets,” Stiles said.

John shook his head. “I don’t even care.”

Stiles gave the eggs more attention than they deserved. “I’m sorry I left without telling you dad.”

His father sighed. “If you had told me, I wouldn’t have let you go. I spent that first year writing a missing persons report and then erasing it.”

“Why did you?” Stiles asked. “I spent the first year looking over my shoulder expecting you to come after me.”

There was a moment of silence.

John finally shrugged. “I think it is because I felt like I messed you up, that when you finally met your Other it was too much to bear. I didn’t mean to but I never told you somethings about your mother and me, and it seems like you just thought that it was all hurt.”

Stiles just paid attention to cooking. They didn’t have conversations like this.

“I loved her,” John said quietly. “I loved her from the time that she was fifteen. She was my world, and I got her for almost twenty years. I’m very lucky, there were so many good moments so many warm happy memories. I don’t regret anything. I don’t regret anything between the two of us—our fights, our awkwardness, our happiness. She was my heart and will always be. Every moment I got with her was a gift. I don’t regret it. I did at first, but after the pain of no more memories I realized I got a life that was perfect. I got a son who is wonderful.”

Stiles didn’t want to look at his father, he knew they both had tears in their eyes.

“I am happy, I was happy. You shouldn’t fear being happy on the off chance that you might one day get hurt,” John said, his voice a rasp.

Stiles wiped his eyes and reached for a plate. He placed it in front of his father. 

“I’m going to the police academy once I get my ducks in a row,” Stiles said, venturing a look at his father. The look of pride and love on his father’s face nearly tore him apart. “I’m sorry, dad,” Stiles said voice wobbling. “I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for not calling, I’m sorry for worrying you.”

John shrugged. “I knew you were okay. Derek could feel you. Scott got your calls. I knew you would be back.”

Stiles bit his lip, he didn’t want to cry.

John got up and hugged his son.

**

Stiles spent the day with his father, his father got the old photo albums out and looked at the picture of his mother. By the time he headed back to the Hale House, he was exhausted. The library was empty. Stiles walked up to the second floor and he found everyone watching a movie in the rec room. There was some shifting, and Stiles found himself on the couch between Derek and Boyd. Someone passed him the popcorn.

He breathed in. Pack. Home.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep listening to the thrum of Derek’s heartbeat, but now he could feel it, as his hand went over Derek’s heart.

**

He woke up when he felt himself fall into the bed in the guest room. Sitting up sleepily, he looked at Derek who was attempting to pull blankets over him. Stiles fought him.

“Stop being difficult,” Derek said. “Just go to bed.”

“I’m in the wrong bed,” Stiles said, his eyes still half closed. “Don’t wanna just be putting flowers on your grave.”

Derek was still, and Stiles fought to keep awake.

“Derek,” Stiles said lifting up his arms.

Derek let out a groan and hauled Stiles downstairs and into the Alpha room. Stiles fell asleep before Derek even got into the bed. Derek curled around him.

**

When he opened his eyes, Stiles was momentarily confused. He was in the most comfortable bed he had ever felt, not that it had a lot of competition in the last few years. Derek was asleep next to him, well actually sprawled under him, wearing only pajama pants. He was a furnace. Stiles looked down at himself, in his boxers and a t-shirt. He was more than okay with this.

Stiles leaned into Derek’s neck and breathed. He could feel it, he could feel his Other, and it didn’t feel like a curse this time. It felt like something that he could be glad was part of him. It wasn’t impending hurt, it was a lifetime of happiness. He leaned over a little further and ghosted his lips on Derek’s neck. His tongue dragged a trail down Derek’s skin. Derek made a soft noise of contentment. It hit Stiles that this was one of those moments that he wanted to remember. This was a moment that he could have and remember through everything. Stiles reached out a hand and traced a finger over Derek’s chest as his lips traced over Derek’s ear.

“Wakey, wakey,” he said in a husky voice full of promise.

Derek rolled over, dislodging Stiles, and opened one eye.

In less than a second, Stiles was on his back and Derek’s mouth was doing an extensive amount of exploring, tongue flicking over his collarbones. For a dreadful moment disappeared, and then his shirt came off. He was naked from the waist up in Derek’s bed and Derek was touching him.

Every touch was electric and intense. Stiles was arching into Derek’s body, needing the friction that Derek didn’t seem to be inclined to give. To say that he had never thought about this, was the epic lie of the world. To say that he had underestimated what it would feel like, was the understatement of a lifetime.

Stiles was gulping in air, trying to remember the mechanics of that, and all Derek was doing was sucking at his collarbones. Derek’s mouth dipped lower, and Stiles blanked out on anything but the sensation. There was a good chance that he was going to die if Derek stopped this time. Then Stiles felt fingers along his waistband, and his mind shut off entirely. Derek dipped his tongue in Stiles’s bellybutton and then looked up, his eyes piercing.

“This okay?” Derek asked, a little horse.

Stiles nodded enthusiastically. Then the boxers were ripped down his legs, and Derek was nosing around his hipbones. Stiles hips surged forward, finding nothing. It was the most agonizing painful moment of his life, he craved friction.

Then Derek swallowed him down, and Stiles’s world whited out.

There was suction and the swipe of Derek’s tongue and the heat of Derek’s mouth. Stiles tried to hold on—to enjoy this first mouth on him, the first time with anyone, his first time with Derek. He wanted to savor the moment, but he couldn’t because of the intensity of all of the sensations. 

Then Derek growled a little in the back of his throat. 

Stiles was coming so quickly it was incredibly embarrassing. He couldn’t be bothered to be ashamed, because his body was seizing up and contracting and breaking into a million pieces. This was bliss—this was Derek. Derek was seeping into every pore of his being.

Then Derek was at his neck, and his voice sounded a little rough.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Derek said.

Stiles inhaled and coughed a little on that. He flopped over a little, needing contact as a lazy hand skimmed over Derek’s mostly naked body. Derek let out a little shuddering breath. Stiles buried his face in Derek’s neck, hand reaching down hesitantly.

“You don’t have to,” Derek rasped.

Stiles paused, playing with the hem of Derek’s pants. He was quite adept at doing this on himself, but he was quite sure that it would be different when it wasn’t his own. 

“Show me,” Stiles said breathlessly.

Derek’s heart stuttered and his breathing became shallow. Stiles thought that he was going to deny him, but slowly Derek reached for Stiles’s hand and pulled it upwards. Stiles didn’t move, breathing hotly into Derek’s neck. Stiles stayed stock still as the mouth that had just been sucking him, licked his palm. Derek’s tongue was a little warm and sticky, and Stiles felt his cock stir at just the thought.

Derek shimmied out of his pants and gave Stiles’s palm another lick and then moved it down. Stiles didn’t move his head from Derek’s shoulder, but he felt Derek wrap their hands around his dick. It was hot and hard under his touch, and Stiles let out a whimper as he stroked Derek. Derek was arching into the touch, his body flexing as Stiles’s burrowed into his side.

“So good,” Derek said as Stiles twisted his wrist. 

Derek was panting, Stiles couldn’t look up. It was hotter than burning—listening to Derek breathing and feeling his heat and his body flex with want. He didn’t need to look, he would have time for looking another time, this time he just used up all of his other senses.

Stiles realized that Derek’s hands were grasping at the sheets and Stiles’s hand was now the only one on Derek and this was driving Derek crazy. Stiles nearly lost his mind. One of Derek’s hands came to clasp Stiles’s head to his shoulder. Derek arched up, Stiles sucked in a breath and continued to stroke, but he finally looked up at Derek. Derek’s neck was arched, his head thrown back, his mouth moving to words and noises that he wasn’t giving voice to.

Stiles began to move faster, watching what his touch was doing. 

Derek looked over at him and bit his lip. 

Finally, he spoke. 

“Stiles.”

And then he was spilling over Stiles’s hand.

Stiles leaned down—amidst morning breath and the bitter taste of himself— and kissed Derek before flopping back on the bed, wiping his hand on his discarded shirt.

They both just lay there getting their breaths and heartbeats back within a normal range.

Stiles looked at Derek’s ceiling, it really was a great room.

“So I’m not complaining or anything,” Stiles said finally. “Why did that…”

Stiles didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“You’re my Other,” Derek told him.

“I have been for five years,” Stiles said, still looking at the ceiling. 

“Well you asked too,” Derek said quietly.

“It seemed like the time,” Stiles agreed.

“You don’t feel it?” Derek asked, touching lightly on Stiles’s back.

Stiles closed his eyes, he couldn’t feel anything else.

“This is real,” Stiles sighed.

Derek looked over at him.

“I’m not good at this, Stiles,” Derek admitted. 

“At relationships? At talking?” Stiles asked.

“I haven’t been for a long time, either one,” Derek said, staring at him. “For a long time it was just Laura and me. We didn’t do much talking, and we didn’t get to know other people that often. Then you came and you were supposed to be with me, and this isn’t what I’m good at.”

“You were pretty good at that,” Stiles told him. “I assume you’ve had some practice.”

“I got more than I gave, but yes,” Derek said practically. “You have a talent, too.”

Stiles waved him off, blushing. “I’ve practiced that one plenty.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re my Other,” Derek said, looking directly at him. “It probably will always come back to this. You can go, but I want you to know what it is you are going from.”

Stiles grinned a little. “I’m thinking you like me.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Occasionally. You have the tendency to be a little too smug, but you’ll do.”

“You’re getting much better at words,” Stiles told him leaning forward. “Wanna know a secret?”

Derek looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes.

“I’m staying,” Stiles whispered.

Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Really Derek, you should have tried blowjobs earlier. I never would have left,” Stiles said looking around. “We should shower. You do have a shower?”

Derek smirked.

**

They spent an hour in the shower. It was the most amazing bathroom that Stiles had ever seen. It was large and blue. There was a shower in the corner with no curtain and there was a huge tub and two sinks and mirrors. There wasn’t an extensive amount of time to look around before Derek was insistent on attention.

Stiles got another chance to practice his handiwork under the amazing spray of the showerhead. Derek seemed to be very appreciative of Stiles’s enthusiasm, as unskilled as it may be.

It was only after drying with amazingly plush white towels that he realized that the towels and this room was his now too. He swallowed and expected panic. Instead he felt a deep feeling of relief.

With a smile he padded into the kitchen wearing sweatpants and one of Derek’s t-shirts.

Everyone was gathered in the kitchen, eating and fighting about something that quieted instantly when Stiles entered. Erica studied him, squinting her eyes a bit.

“He didn’t have sex,” she announced far too loudly.

Boyd cocked his head. “But he got some.”

Stiles wished that he could hate werewolves. He just stood there uncomfortably. They had to have known that this was coming, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do now.

Lydia looked at the clock. “Who had ten a.m.?”

“I did,” Isaac said sadly. “But I had sex.”

Scott was sitting there looking a little uncomfortable when everyone’s eyes went to him.

“E tu, Brute?” Stiles said, still looking at all of them.

Scott shrugged and handed him some toast. “I’ll split it with you.”

Stiles studied first the toast and then Scott. “Are we talking like ‘I got pizza money’ or ‘I’m going to take you out to Chez Pepe, and you can order dessert’.”

Scott shifted. “Well we expected you to jump into bed with him a month ago. The money just kind of rolled up. I think we could both get flat screens.”

Stiles felt Derek come into the kitchen, and he turned.

“Scott is buying us a TV for the bedroom,” Stiles told him.

Derek cocked his head at his pack. He gave them the stare down. They all shifted uncomfortably. Stiles just grinned.

“Outside in fifteen,” Derek said. “You haven’t been training enough lately.”

They all stood still.

“Now,” he growled, and they jumped and scattered to their rooms.

Stiles turned to him. “Wow Alpha-puss, you got a TV because you blew me, you should be excited.”

Derek gave him a skeptical look.

“Too soon?” Stiles asked.

“Probably,” Derek said. “Plus, you made me sound like a hooker.”

Stiles nodded. “I can see how that came across. Send the pups out to run or whatever, and I will make you breakfast if you forget it.”

Derek gave him a little smile.

Stiles shook his head. “You really have to do that more.”

There was a slight cocking of Derek’s head. “You’re staying. I just might.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Stiles asked. “I mean…that is awesome.”

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, still mostly annoying,” Stiles said. “But I make great breakfasts. One day very soon, I will give great blow jobs, and we’ll all be happy.”

Derek tried not to smile and looked like he was going to fail when they heard the trotting footsteps of the pack coming down the stairs. Derek stood up straight. Stiles leaned on the kitchen block, chin on his hands, watching Derek.

“Isaac is the rabbit,” Derek commanded. “He has a ten minute head start.”

“Fuck,” Isaac said, falling over his feet as he ran out the door.

Everyone else was dressed in different work out gear. Allison with non-lethal crossbow, stretched. Stiles just stared at them. In the month that he had been back, he hadn’t seen this, everyone else seemed to be expecting this.

“Did you get the last month off?” Stiles asked.

They all looked uncomfortable, like it was something that they were perfectly aware of. Derek looked as if it was something that he had just realized.

“We’re up tomorrow at five,” Derek decided.

Scott groaned. “Thanks Stiles.”

Stiles got an odd look on his face. “I have a feeling that this is going to ruin my future morning plans.”

Allison scrunched up her nose. “Welcome to waking up alone.”

Stiles gave her a little grin.

Derek looked at Stiles. “What makes you think that you’re not going to be training with them?”

Stiles looked taken aback.

“Welcome back to the pack, buddy,” Scott said, shifting on his feet.

Stiles made a face. “I don’t know if I signed up for this.”

Scott made a face, but he was looking towards the door.

“Two minute warning,” Derek said, voice sliding over them.

They all seemed to be getting antsy. Stiles just stared at them. They were kinetic without even moving, all looking towards the door and waiting for Derek’s order. Stiles watched in odd fascination. He had seen other packs do this. He had left before he saw his own pack gel like this.

“Go,” Derek said quietly and the pack was out the door in a loud stampede.

Stiles smiled. “We’re like a real pack. Humans and wolves, and whatever Jackson and Lydia are.”

Derek walked towards him hesitantly. Stiles took pity on him and pulled him in for a kiss, feeling the “mine” that Derek wasn’t saying. It turned him on like nothing else. After years of wandering, he finally had a place.

He was kissing Derek, moving to find the best fit…to find the best way to mold their bodies together. Derek’s head snapped up, and Stiles registered a howl.

“It’s Isaac,” Derek said. “He’s good. He wouldn’t be caught already. He wouldn’t howl, not unless there was something wrong.”

Derek made a move towards the front door, and Stiles grabbed Derek’s arm. “You can’t, you have the whole pack out there. If it’s another wolf you have to trust your pack to bring them in. It looks bad to have the Alpha to come tearing in.”

“And if it is a human?” Derek said, looking towards the door.

Stiles shrugged. “Make the call. You’re the Alpha.”

Derek walked towards the door and opened it. He looked back at Stiles.

“You’ve changed,” Derek said, motioning for Stiles to follow him. “There was a time that you would tell me exactly what I needed to do.”

“I still am,” Stiles said, shifting on his feet.

Derek looked out on the woods and attempted to keep his breathing even.

“Just tell me you know what you are doing,” Derek said. “And not like some dumb kid with Google.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “No to both, but if it is a wolf you’re really good at glowering if you don’t know the proper greetings or whatever. Just give me your proxy, and I’ll talk. You be scary and do the bodily harm.”

Despite both of their anxiety, Derek smiled.

“I am glad you’re back,” Derek said very quietly.

Stiles bit back a victory cheer. “I’m so very glad you’re using your words.”

The pack appeared, looking like they in fact had trampled through the woods—sticks and leaves stuck everywhere. Scott was leading the charge. Boyd and Jackson were wrestling a man towards the house. Another strange woman followed them. Allison had the bow trained on her. Isaac was following slowly, flanked by Erica and Lydia. Stiles saw the man and discreetly nudged Derek.

“I’m the Alpha Hale,” Derek said. Stiles noted that he didn’t seem used to putting those words together. In fact, a few of the Betas looked like they were trying not to laugh. “This is my Other, he is my proxy.”

Derek sounded commanding, but Stiles could tell that he was more than a little on edge using the strange words. Stiles stepped forward and squinted. He recognized the new comer, but things like this had to be done a certain way. He didn’t want his pack to seem like some hick group of kids.

“You are on the Hale territory, while in the bounds of this area you will follow all of the requests and demands of the Alpha. You will be a guest on these lands and will act in accordance.”

The man stood up straight.

“Vladimir Ukhtomsky, of the Volkov Pack in the Ukraine,” the man said with a thick accent. “I mean no harm, and come with no ill. I submit myself to the Alpha while on these lands.”

Stiles tilted his head. “Do you bring tribute as an ally to this pack?”

Vlad nodded towards Erica. “The woman has my bag,” he said.

Stiles turned towards Derek and coughed a little. Derek threw him an incredulous look, but finally seemed to get it.

“Erica,” Derek said.

She stepped forward with a flutter of her hair, holding up the bag. Derek took it and looked in it, taking out a bottle. He looked over at Stiles.

“Little Stilinski, my Polish brother,” Vlad said. “I come in peace!”

“Vlad,” Stiles laughed. “You brought the drain cleaner.”

“Your Alpha, he likes to party?” Vlad said with a huge smile. “He’s smaller than I thought.”

“Vlad don’t insult the Alpha,” Stiles said. “It isn’t done.”

“Much apologies, Alpha,” Vlad said. “Me and Kalyna hope for your hospitality.” 

Derek turned towards Stiles and raised an eyebrow that nobody else could see. Stiles had to laugh, Derek was so out of his element.

“I met Vlad in the Ukraine,” Stiles said by way of explanation.

“I nearly killed him,” Vlad said. “Much apologies to you and your mate. I brought more cases of vodka in apology, they are in car. We got lost.”

Derek looked at the bottle still in his hands and turned to Stiles.

“Does he know I can’t get drunk?” Derek asked.

“It’s special vodka,” Stiles explained. “It gets wolves drunk, and it also adds a spicy kick for humans. You should under no circumstances drink it.”

“Pah, your Other is not a girly man. He is sturdy. He can take it,” Vlad insisted.

The pack was trying and mostly failing not to laugh, and Derek’s confusion began to show.

“Why are you here?” he asked with a tinge of hostility.

Vlad frowned. “For Kalyna, she saw the picture that Young Stilinski left of your pack. She saw the curly haired boy. He is the first that she has seen. He is her Other.”

Derek looked immediately over at Isaac. Isaac looked up at Derek, a little green around the edges.

“Isaac?” Derek asked, his scorn had turned to genuine concern.

Isaac nodded.

“We’re family now,” Vlad said happily.

Derek blinked.

“Alpha Hale,” Lydia said from her place among the Betas. “I would like to propose we celebrate the addition by having a bonfire and getting drunk.”

Derek shuddered. Stiles could feel it between them.

“No fire,” Stiles said softly. 

Everyone immediately understood.

“We have the fire pit,” Jackson offered. “Never been used.”

“And we have extra fire extinguishers,” Allison said practically.

Derek seemed to consider this for a second.

“Come in Vlad, give one of the Betas your keys. They’ll get your car,” Derek said finally. “Isaac, Kalyna, Stiles let’s go talk in the study. Everybody else, I guess we’re having a party tonight.”

**

Hours later, there was a barbeque outside and people laughing. Isaac was finally looking at Kalyna. Derek was still in his office, rubbing his temples when Stiles came in with a bottle.

“When I became Alpha, I always thought it would be all about being powerful and all that,” Derek sighed. “I mean I figured there would be a pack to train, but not so much the fact that I’d have to take care of all their emotional issues and run interference with their romances and make sure they were safe and had a home. Now there is paperwork for visas, and I have to talk to lawyers about getting Kalyna citizenship. My dad made this look so much easier.”

Stiles grinned. “Vodka?”

“Dear lord, yes,” Derek said.

Stiles sat two shot glasses in front of him. Derek looked at the clear liquid.

“I’ve never been drunk before,” Derek admitted.

Stiles’s grin deepened. “Bottoms up, big guy.”

**

Derek was sucking on Stiles’s collarbone, something that it seemed Derek was really enthusiastic about. Stiles was drunk enough not to feel every wall that he was slammed into on the way to the Alpha House. He was sober enough to know that he was probably going to be very sore in the morning, for many reasons.

One of those was going to be the fact that Derek had begun to undress him while they were still in the kitchen. Derek still had his pants on, but by the time that they hit the bed, Stiles was only in his boxers, his body covered in marks from Derek’s mouth. Derek was drunk, his movements were sloppy, but very effective. Stiles was hard, aching, and up for whatever Derek had manhandled him here for. Their mouths were fused, and the electricity between them was burning them up—the want was swallowing them whole.

Stiles pulled Derek closer, needing this so badly. It felt like he had denied himself breathing, and he had to have this. He couldn’t get enough of Derek’s hands on his body, his tongue in his mouth, and the sweet friction of another body on his.

He felt Derek’s erection through the pants, and his head was already swimming. 

“So good,” Derek said against the skin on his throat, almost eating Stiles alive. Stiles arched into it.

Derek’s hands were everywhere, his mouth hot and wet.

“Please,” Stiles said, the only word that he could formulate. “Please.”

Derek growled and slipped a hand down over his hip, lifting up his legs, and taking off Stiles’s boxers. Derek trailed a tongue down Stiles’s ass. It tickled for a second and then Derek’s blunt teeth bit Stiles’s perky ass. Stiles let out a whimper as Derek suck at the place that he had just marked. Derek urged Stiles’s legs up a little higher and his tongue licked out at the mark at Stiles’s spine. Stiles felt the earth move as Derek nipped at it and then sucked at it.

Stiles threw an arm over his eyes and let out tiny little noises of appreciation as his hips urged Derek on. This wasn’t time for foreplay. There would be years for that later.

At the first touch of Derek’s rough tongue to his ass, Stiles began to babble. Derek’s tongue teasing for less than a second before plunging into Stiles’s ass. Stiles arched, giving more access to Derek’s hot tongue as it relentlessly sought hotter and deeper places.

“Please,” Stiles said, finding his words again.

Derek didn’t relent, but he added a finger next to his tongue. Stiles returned to moaning at the sloppy wet squishes of fingers and tongue at the tight ring of his ass. The sensations were amazing, nothing in his life had prepared him for this.

Derek added another finger and pulled away to watch his work. 

“So tight,” Derek said in awe. “No one?”

Stiles moaned and arched as Derek scissored his fingers gently, teasing in preparation

“Me,” Stiles gasped. “Just me.”

Derek stopped for a moment, flipped Stiles over, and then slid up his body. He buried his mouth in Stiles’s neck, sucking mindlessly as he worked another finger in.

“You opened yourself up,” Derek rasped out against his skin. “You did this all by yourself, did you imagine that I’d be doing it someday?”

“Every time,” Stiles confessed.

Derek let out a shaky whisper. “You’re going to do it someday for me. You’re going to show me how you opened yourself up and made yourself come, with my name on your lips.”

Stiles groaned in agreement. 

Derek shuddered.

“I can’t wait, need you so much,” Derek murmured reaching to somewhere. Stiles heard the pop of a cap and let out a moan of gratefulness. Stiles’s eyes were closed, just feeling sensations running over him, the body on him, and the three finger opening him even more, sending pulses of pleasure though his body.

There was slick lube and Derek’s mouth claiming his neck. Derek was shifting slightly, making room for him to remove his jeans, but keeping his mouth on Stiles. 

Stiles let out a breathy moan when Derek’s cock ran along his ass crack. Derek scrambled to entirely remove his pants as Stiles rutted against Derek mindlessly. He shifted and rolled his head back and forth before Derek returned to give him a dirty kiss. He lined himself up at Stiles entrance.

“You sure?” Derek mostly teased, pretty sure that he was going to have to kill himself if he had to stop at this moment.

“Fuck you,” Stiles said, even as Derek carefully pushed himself in. 

“Fuck me,” Stiles said in a holy whisper.

It was supposed to be like this—encased in your Other, skin against skin, sweat pooling, and the strain to get closer. Friction erased by salty sweat between them.

“I’m in you,” Derek said, a little in awe, between clenched teeth. “I’m so deep in you. Part of you now.”

“Please, yes,” Stiles said, hands grabbing at Derek’s shoulders, needing every inch of himself to burn with Derek’s body.

“Never going to leave,” Derek said, pulling out and pushing in. Every time he tried to pull out Stiles would contract around him—needing him—body crying out for him as he whimpered for more.

Derek’s mouth nipped at Stiles’s ear as he pushed deeper. Stiles was bent in half and it wasn’t nearly enough. He just wanted more. He wanted to bend and break as long as Derek kept moving inside of him.

Then Derek’s hand wrapped around Stiles’s dick, and he couldn’t contain anything anymore, he came clenching down, hearing Derek growl loud and raw as he came powerfully.

It was seconds before they could move, and then there was only a clumsy repositioning so they were both laying on the bed.

They stayed that way—shaking and immobilized—bodies unable to do any more moving.

“This is perfect,” Derek said, mind mostly gone, body already useless.

Stiles breathed in. “Don’t forget that in the morning.”

**

Stiles woke up, head pounding feeling like ass run over twice. The sheets around him were crusty and half of him was on fire and the other half was cold. His entire body was sore. He felt disgusting. Derek stirred slightly and moaned.

“This is still perfect,” Derek said weakly. “But currently very gross.”

Stiles grinned despite himself.

“You have a huge tub in the bathroom,” Stiles said, trying not to wince as he moved. He was not as flexible and tough as his drunken mind thought that he was.

“I’m a genius,” Derek said.

They began their slow glacier slide into the bathroom and into the tub, moaning slightly as the water filled up around them. Stiles leaned back against Derek’s chest, feeling the water sooth his muscles and aching ass.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Derek said finally, when the water was up to mid-chest and the jets turned on. “But I was almost glad that you left.”

“Hmm?” Stiles said, still sleepy and hung over. He was worn out, and Derek’s voice was soothing despite the partially offensive words.

“I wasn’t in a good place,” Derek told him. “When we first met, I mean. I had just lost the last thing I thought I had. I always thought that there would be more time before I would have someone who needed me. Then all of the sudden I was the Alpha. I never thought I would have to do it alone. Always thought that I would at least have Laura. Then I had an Other and I didn’t know what to do with the Pack and with the Other and I’m not going to lie, I was a little intimidated by both.”

Stiles shifted more into him, as if that could protect Derek from the past. Derek’s hand came up and subconsciously stroked Stiles’s arm, over the marks there. Derek reached for the soap and began to stroke it over Stiles’s aching skin.

“I wasn’t ready for you,” Derek confessed. “When I met you. I wasn’t ready for anything, and I found I had to be.”

“And now?” Stiles asked reaching for the soap and rubbing it over Derek’s arms

“You’re not something that anybody is ever ready for,” Derek said with a bit of humor.

Stiles turned around and began soaping up Derek’s chest, but made an effort not to look him in the eyes.

“Says the guy with the body of a Greek god and an imposing, unfriendly demeanor who just happens to be dirty as hell in bed, especially after a few drinks,” Stiles muttered before lifting his eyes.

Derek was looking right at him.

“You’re thinking about what I said about fucking myself open,” Stiles accused.

Derek closed his eyes and groaned. “Stiles, I can safely say there isn’t going to be many moments in the near future that I’m not thinking about that.”

Stiles grinned, then it faltered. “Please don’t touch me, I’m so sore right now.”

Derek gave him a comforting smile, and then settled him again. They finished cleaning off their night, drained some of the water, and filled the tub up again so they could soak in the hot jets. Stiles looked around at the huge bathroom.

“Seriously,” Stiles said happily. “This bathroom was a stroke of genius.”

**

Stiles padded out of the Alpha suite after helping Derek change the sheets. Derek had collapsed on them, and Stiles went to find food. He heard the television upstairs and went to investigate.

Scott was on the couch with a plate of sandwiches and a bag of chips. Stiles walked into the room and gingerly sat down. Scott’s eyebrows raised and he passed Stiles a sandwich.

“So regrets?” Scott asked.

Stiles tried his best not to blush. “None.”

“Just looking out for you,” Scott said. “Last night there was a lot of wall shuddering and a lot of growling and moaning.”

“It was the good kind,” Stiles defended.

“Oh, we’re all aware,” Scott teased. “Sounded like five years of pent up feeling.”

Stiles patted Scott’s leg and reached for another sandwich. “Oh there is a lot still pent up, don’t you worry.”

Scott cringed and changed the subject. “So do you want to get in on the pool for how long it will take Isaac to make a move.”

Stiles snickered. “Probably forever to even talk to the poor girl. She’s going to have to make the move.”

“You’re on that side, $50?” Scott asked.

“You know it,” Stiles said.

They sat in the rec room eating in comfortable silence watching TV.

“Hey Scott,” Stiles said around a mouthful of chips. “Remember that time you got turned into a werewolf?”

“Hey Stiles,” Scott said rolling his eyes. “Remember that time you found your other, and you freaked out and left and went on a voyage of self discovery?”

“Hey Scott, shut up,” Stiles said.

“Hey Stiles, you’re like our mom now,” Scott teased.

Stiles grinned. “Hey Scott, fuck off.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m glad you finally came home,” Scott said.

“Me too,” Stiles said.


End file.
